


Drunken Dancing

by Sleepless_Malice



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Chocolate Box Exchange 2020, Dialogue Heavy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gift Fic, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, My favorite dysfunctional family, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, emotional tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: Maglor withdraws from Elrond’s lips. “Do you want me to prepare him for you?”“Maybe,” Maedhros says, brushing a strand of wayward hair out of his eyes. “But not here.”“Where else?”“In a bed?” Maedhros sighs in frustration. “Or has that become too ordinary for you?”
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Maedhros | Maitimo, Elrond Peredhel/Maedhros | Maitimo/Maglor | Makalaurë, Elrond Peredhel/Maglor | Makalaurë, Maedhros | Maitimo/Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Drunken Dancing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluehair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehair/gifts).



> , who has asked for something 🌶️ for Chocolate Box.
> 
> A huge thank you goes out to my beta reader [Anoriath@AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoriath/pseuds/Anoriath) who did such an awesome job with this story <3

**Drunken Dancing**

**~.~**

Night has long fallen outside the small house at the edge of the forest. Wind races across its walls, howling, the prelude to the storm that is to arrive shortly. Inside, in the main room, the fire in the hearth still burns, the air redolent with the smell of peat.

Maglor pushes the glass towards Maedhros across the table. “Drink!”

“Why?” Maedhros crosses his arms – or what remains of them – across his chest, then rolls his eyes at Maglor. “If you want to fuck just say so.”

“I don’t,” Maglor says, shaking his head.

Maedhros pretends to be hurt. “No? Rare enough.”

“Well…” Maglor raises the glass to his lips, considering.

Then, he stands up and retrieves a wooden board from one of the shelves, together with its wooden figures.

“What’s this now?” Maedhros groans, thoroughly annoyed by Maglor’s persistence in setting up the game. “I’m hardly in the mood for drinking games.”

Maglor’s smile is radiant but fake. “I thought it might cheer you up.”

Maedhros rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to be cheered up.”

“That’s obvious, yes. But trust me, you want to,” Maglor tells him, pouring himself another glass of wine. “Don’t you remember our gambling for Findaráto once?”

“What’s your point, Káno?” Maedhros hisses, patience running thin. It’s long past midnight. “Yes, I do remember it. It has been a lifetime ago. Why do you bring it up now? I doubt there’s any gambling for threesomes in the Halls of Awaiting.”

Maglor drains the last of his wine, setting his cup down onto the table with a faint thump. “A pity, don’t you think? Just think of the exclusive circle of participants and the variety that comes with it. Gems are residing in the Halls of Mandos…”

Maedhros snatches both the cup and the bottle of wine out of Maglor’s hands. “It’s enough, don’t you think? Of wine – and talk both.”

Maglor makes a face. “Aren’t you curious what tonight’s price will be?” Maglor asks, snatching the bottle out of his brother’s hand, drinking directly from it.

Maedhros slams his palm on the table. “No!”

Maglor shrugs. “I’ll tell you anyway. It’s Elrond’s virginity.”

Maedhros freezes. Within a heartbeat, shock turns to anger. He grabs Maglor by the collar across the table. “The boy is off-limits.”

Maglor remains perfectly calm, still smiling. “And what if he doesn’t want to be off-limits?”

If Maedhros had another hand, he would slap Maglor across the face. “Because you don’t want him to be off-limits, that is all,” he hisses. “Isn’t it enough that our lives have become a wretched misery?”

Maglor groans, battling his brother’s hand away. “You’re more fool than I thought you were.”

Maedhros narrows his eyes. “Say this again?”

“You are a fool,” Maglor repeats, eyes glittering. “An idiot, blind.”

Maedhros drops Maglor and stands up, balling his hand into a fist.

Maglor crosses his arms before his chest then bursts out laughing.

“It seems to me,” Maglor says, looking from Maedhros’s face down between his legs, then back up again. “That you are already _growing_ fond of the idea.”

“Fuck you!” Maedhros’s cup flies against the wall.

Maglor’s smile is devious. “I’d rather fuck Elrond.”

“How long has this been going on?”

Maglor ignores the question. “That he’s watching us fuck? A while.”

“What?” Maedhros snaps.

Maglor shrugs, the bottle already at his lips . “A while.”

Thoroughly disgusted, Maedhros groans. “And you didn’t deem it necessary to tell me this? Not even hint at it?” 

“No?” Maglor tilts his head to the side, looking coy. “I like being watched.”

“I don’t.”

“Such a pity, really.” Maglor sighs, exaggerated. “I remember quite fondly the time Findaráto watched us. And I think you do, too.”

* * *

Elrond has been ignoring the noises from below for a while, trying to go back to sleep. A hopeless cause, it seems. He gets up with a groan. The night outside is pitch-black, broken at times by lightning arching across the sky. He walks down the stairs, then opens the door of the living room.

Surely, they must have heard him coming down, the old wood of the stairs groaning with every step.

“What are you arguing about?” Elrond asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. They argue often, but somehow, today is worse, and different than usual.

Maglor spins around in his chair, flashing a radiant smile at him. “Who’s going to take your virginity.”

Maedhros glares – at Maglor first, then at Elrond, who, feeling himself blanching, then turns crimson red. 

_Breathe!_

Elrond presses his arms against his sides, forcing his body to stillness rather than fleeing up the stairs. “Don’t you think I have a say in this?”

Maglor leans back against the chair, eyes alight with curiosity. “I am listening.”

Maedhros sighs. “I never knew you were so awful.”

“And yet you fell for my charms ages ago,” Maglor states matter-of-factly.

Elrond simply stares, at a loss for what to say.

“Yes,” Maedhros hisses. “And I still wonder why.”

“Do you?” Maglor asks, then addresses Elrond. “My apologies, Elrond. If you are offended by our brazen talk, just let us know.”

Though weakly, Elrond shakes his head. He’s not offended, but rather shocked – and yet, oddly enough, the idea intrigues.

“Not that this is anything new,” Maglor says, then stands, grabbing Maedhros by the collar to kiss him.

Maedhros tries to tilt his head away, but Maglor is successful regardless, before Maedhros manages to pull away.

“I … I,” Elrond stammers, knees going weak.

Maglor laughs. “Yes, yes, you’ve never watched us and got off it. That’s exactly what you want to tell us, no?”

“Enough!” Maedhros hisses through gritted teeth, slamming his fist down the table.

Maglor outright ignores him, taking a step towards Maedhros again. “Go on then, Elrond. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.”

Maedhros sighs. “What’s wrong with you tonight, Káno?”

“Ask the question yourself?” Maglor snaps.

“I know what’s always wrong with me,” Maedhros snarls. “Don’t divert.”

Elrond looks miserable. “Don’t fight. I don’t want to be the reason for your arguments.”

Maedhros shakes his head, then laughs. “You aren’t. After all, you are the only sane person in this room.”

Maglor snorts. “You sound like Moryo. Better looking, I give you that, but otherwise little different.”

Maedhros turns to Elrond. “I’ll take my leave. And I can only advise you to do the same. He’s a horrible company tonight. Good night”

Elrond steps into Maedhros’ way. “Don’t … please?” he says, hating the way his voice trembles.

Maedhros regards Elrond, considering. “You shouldn’t have a part in any of this.”

Elrond looks up to meet Maedhros’s gaze. “But what if I want to? Maglor is right in everything he said. And if I leave now – or you, the situation is gone forever.”

“See?” Triumph flashes across Maglor’s face. “I told you! Now you’ve heard it yourself.” He then turns towards Elrond, who is still standing around, looking somewhat lost. “Don’t worry. I’m quite familiar with my brother’s words. It’s exactly what he told me at the age of sixteen – and yet here we are, arguing like the old couple that we are.“

“Shut up!”

Maglor ignores his brother. “No.”

Elrond narrows his eyes, looking at Maedhros. “Is it true?”

“What?” Maedhros asks.

“That … that you have been together, sort of, since the days of the Two Trees?”

It’s Maglor who answers him. “Yes. When finally he stopped denying me.”

“I never knew.” Elrond looks abashed. 

Maglor shrugs. “You never asked.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll shut up now,” Maglor says to Maedhros. “One last thing: can we please return to tonight’s topic? What was it again? Ah yes, Elrond’s virginity.”

This time, the cup missed Maglor’s face by a hair. “Discuss whatever you desire. I want no part in this.”

Elrond blocks Maedhros’s way a second time. “But I want you to have a part in this,” he states, surprised by how firm his voice suddenly sounds.

Laughing without mirth, Maglor drinks, then says, “Oh, now it’s becoming interesting.”

“Ignore him,” Maedhros says. “He’s drunk.”

“Not nearly half as drunk as I wish I was.”

Maedhros rolls his eyes at Maglor. “Go on, then. Drink,” he says. He turns back to Elrond. “What is it that you want from us?”

Elrond feels a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Can’t .. you guess?”

“We probably can,” Maedhros states matter-of-factly, his voice not betraying anything. “But what if we want to hear it from you?”

Maglor smirks. “He’s always taking a liking to interrogations. After Angband less though.”

“ _Shut up_.”

Maglor is on his feet again, coming to stand behind Elrond, but addressing Maedhros. “Yes, yes. I won’t talk with you any more than necessary.”

He takes one of Elrond’s hand into his own and lifts it to Maedhros’s face, guiding them along Maedhros’s cheeks. Elrond’s fingers tremble, and he is surprised that Maedhros allows himself to be touched like this. Maglor moves Elrond’s fingers along Maedhros’s cheekbone, his lips, then trail down across his chest, further down.

Elrond tries to snatch his hand away the moment he realizes where Maglor wants to end the journey of his fingers.

“Don’t,” Maglor whispers into Elrond’s ear, the grip around his wrist turned to iron.

“I… I…,” Elrond stammers.

Maglor cuts him off. “Don’t deny yourself what you’ve always wanted.”

He’s right. Elrond has spent so many times fantasizing about them that he has lost count. Pressing a kiss to Elrond’s neck, Maglor guides Elrond’s hand down between Maedhros’s legs. “See? That wasn’t hard.”

Elrond groans at the pun. Maedhros’s cock – hard and swollen, feels huge against Elrond’s palm, much larger than he had dreamt in his fantasies. He would be lying if he’d said he’d never stared at the bulge between Maedhros’s legs whenever he thought no-one was looking. He had – on numerous occasions, and had brought himself off with the image afterward.

The fabric of Maedhros’s breeches is already wet. It goes right to Elrond’s own cock, as does Maglor’s voice, whispering against Elrond’s skin. “Just use the tips of your fingers,” he instructs, both with words and hand. “Allow your nails to scratch a little; if you do it long enough, it’ll kill him.”

As if to prove a point, Maglor positions Elrond’s fingers on Maedhros’s balls, moving them up and down ever so lightly. “Like this, a bit higher perhaps.”

Maedhros falls eerily silent, eyelids closed and fluttering.

Elrond is still hesitant but the image Maedhros presents is encouragement enough to proceed. It is addictive: the little twitch of the corner of his eyes, the way his lips slightly part, how his freckled skin begins to glow.

With his free hand, Maglor pushes Elrond’s hair out of the way, still making certain that Elrond’s fingers palm Maedhros through his breeches. “I can teach you many things about my brother,” Maglor coos, licking along Elrond’s neck. “How he prefers my mouth to be used; how he likes to be touched and kissed.”

“I .. I’ve seen you doing it,” Elrond murmurs in response, cock twitching against his breeches.

Maglor increases the pressure of Elrond’s hand against Maedhros’s cock. “Did you like what you saw?”

Maedhros moans.

“Yes.” Elrond presses his back against Maglor’s chest, head almost falling to his shoulders.

“Do you want to use my mouth as he does – or would you rather watch us doing it? Or … do it yourself?”

Elrond blinks. How would he know? “Perhaps… both? All of it?”

Elrond feels the smile against his skin between his shoulder blades. Maglor’s lips at his neck slowly and deliberately move up towards his ear. It’s the most sensual thing he has ever experienced, trembling in the wake of it.

“See, he’s jealous; and yet he can’t look away from how I kiss you,” Maglor whispers against the shell of Elrond’s ear, his breath sending a shiver down Elrond’s spine

“You would decline to what you are invited, brother?” Maglor asks, pulling Maedhros close by his hips so that Elrond is trapped between them. “Would you decline what is freely offered? A virgin?”

Then, Maglor takes Maedhros’s hands and places them on Elrond’s hips. “This doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“No.” Maedhros shakes his head, then looks at Elrond, searching for confirmation. “Is this truly what you want?”

“Yes,” Elrond reassures, voice trembling – and at this moment, Maglor steps away. Elrond doesn’t have time to linger on it because suddenly, Maedhros’s lips press against his own.

There’s an urgency behind Maedhros’s kiss; a fierce hunger that entirely takes Elrond aback. Not that he would ever complain, but it’s striking regardless. It’s like a raging storm, dark and dangerous, and Elrond is caught right in its middle.

When Maedhros breaks the kiss his eyes are alight with fire, in a way Elrond has never seen it before. Not in Maglor, in Maedhros even less. He’s panting, the hand around Elrond’s hip shaking.

“Káno,” Maedhros rasps, stepping past Elrond.

Elrond feels like crying. “Don’t … you want to … continue?” He hates the way his voice trembles again.

“He does,” Maglor says from behind, reassuring him. “But he lasts longer if you bring him off before.”

Maedhros cuts him off. “I won’t even last until he’s ready in my current state of mind.”

Maedhros neither confirms nor denies his brother’s words, undoing the laces of his breeches with the same urgency he had kissed Elrond before. Elrond stares but doesn’t understand.

“He loves it if you do it with your mouth. Close your eyes at first,” Maglor says to Elrond, voice almost dreamy. “Then, after a while, open them and keep looking up at him.”

“No need to explain,” Maedhros says. “You’ve always been keen on serving as a living demonstration. Get on that chair.”

“What?”

“ _What?”_

Elrond and Maglor look at each other, then at Maedhros.

Maedhros rolls his eyes at Maglor. “You both heard and understood me. Haven’t you said yourself that you would like to **_watch_** , Elrond? Because spying and watching are two different things entirely.”

Elrond feels his cheek grow hot. “Probably.”

“And furthermore – forgive me my crude language – I can hardly fuck your mouth the way I both want and need to right now.”

Maglor laughs, draping himself on the plush chair upside down quite theatrically.

“You can feel flattered, Elrond. I’ve not seen my brother so … desperate in years. So come, take a seat and enjoy my performance,” he says, dropping his voice significantly as he adds, “and feel free to touch yourself to us. I quite like that. But perhaps, not too hastily … if you want to, you can have your go when he’s done.”

Elrond stares, at a loss of what else to say.

“Shut up,” Maedhros rasps, stepping out of his breeches.

Elrond catches the gleam of challenge in Maglor’s eyes. “Make me.”

Maedhros doesn’t need to be told twice, striding over towards Maglor’s chair.

If Elrond is not be rendered speechless already, he would be now.

He has seen Maedhros naked countless times but he’d never seen his cock fully hard – at least not from such a close distance. It’s massive, heavy and ridged with veins. He’s shocked and at the same time, the mere thought of being fucked by it sends a bolt of arousal through his body. He can’t stop looking; he never could, having analyzed the way Maedhros sat on the table years ago. Legs usually spread widely apart – it’s little wonder why.

Maglor’s head dangles from the seat in quite an unnatural angle. To Elrond it does neither look comfortable nor practical by any means. Maedhros, however, does not seem to mind. He lowers himself to one knee, doesn’t lose any time positioning Maglor’s face the way he wants, overstretching his brother’s neck severely.

 _“Ouch,”_ Elrond thinks, but Maglor allows himself to be manhandled like this, opening his mouth the moment Maedhros’s bare cock slaps against his brother’s cheek. Maglor knows what is coming, the wicked glint in his eyes telling Elrond as much.

“Enjoy,” Maglor rasps, before he sticks out his tongue and opens his mouth even wider.

Maedhros doesn’t lose time, guiding his cock between his brother’s lips.

To catch a better view, Elrond moves to their side, not daring to sit down.

Maglor sticks out his tongue and opens his mouth even wider as Maedhros guides the head of his cock between his brother’s mouth. The first roll of Maedhros’s hips is languid and lazy, almost gentle – and considerate in a way that doesn’t quite match their interaction before.

Maglor’s lips stretch tight around Maedhros’s cock, to the point that Elrond thinks it must become quite painful after a period of time. Maglor allows his eyes to fall shut for a moment, adjusting until he gags upon the intrusion. All the while, Maedhros moans above him. He’s pushing his cock further into Maglor’s mouth until he’s almost completely in. Then, Maedhros withdraws, giving Maglor time to catch his breath until he rolls his hips again, going faster this time, and deeper.

Elrond stares, watching with a strange fascination the way Maglor’s throat works around Maedhros’s cock. He’d always assumed it just is a common saying, fucking somebody’s throat, never actually considering it’s actually possible.

_Well …_

Elrond feels as if he might climax from the sight alone, hand slipping below the waistband of his breeches. It’s impossible not to touch himself whilst watching them – he has never managed to restrain himself.

Maedhros holds the position a moment longer, until Maglor shudders, then pulls out completely.

“Fine?” Maedhros rasps.

Maglor nods, taking a deep breath.

A second later, Elrond knows why.

The gentleness doesn’t last, not even a minute. Maedhros opts for the merciless approach, sliding into Maglor’s mouth fully.

Elrond stares, abashed, unable to grasp how Maglor takes Maedhros’s cock almost effortlessly. It’s _huge_.

Wet noises soon replace the quiet in the room.

Maglor gasps for air, nose pressed against his brother’s balls, then chokes and only then Maedhros withdraws – and pushes in again, and again.

And again.

Tears prick the corners of Maglor’s eyes, Elrond observes, astonished how Maglor manages not to retch. He chokes and coughs, in the same rhythm as Maedhros thrusts into his mouth, drool trickling down his cheeks, but doesn’t retch, doesn’t fight.

It’s fascinating to watch how Maedhros manages to keep his rhythm of pushing in and out. He’s patient by nature, and not even fucking his brother’s mouth throws his façade off balance. The self-restraint must be tremendous.

 _Life-long training_ , a voice in the back of Elrond’s head whispers.

Maglor shakes and shudders, hands splayed against Maedhros’s thighs now.

Maglor’s lips must be burning; his jaw must be aching too, whilst Maedhros’s cock feels heavy against his tongue. For the first time, Elrond’s desire to use Maglor’s mouth in the way Maedhros does blazes through him. No, he’s not jealous, after all probably Maedhros is the best teacher in many things, but perhaps, one day, he could…

His breath coming from him in ragged bursts, Elrond’s tries to fist his cock in the same rhythm as Maedhros fucks Maglor’s throat. At this pace, he won’t last until they are done.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t close his eyes; fantasizing, it’s him in Maedhros’ stead, the sound of obscene wet noises filling his ears and the slip of flesh wet upon his cock.

Sweat beads on Maglor’s cheek, mixing with the saliva from the corners of his mouth until his face is a giant mess. He’s wrecked – or at least he looks like it, and that’s when Elrond’s composure truly falters, when Maedhros pushes in especially deep until Maglor gasps for air around his cock.

“Fuck,” Maedhros swears, his stoic calm dissipating. He’s pressing his groin hard against Maglor’s face until tears flow freely from Maglor’s eyes. “Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ ”

Maedhros' cock works deep in Maglor's throat. But it is the sight of Maglor's desperate attempts to swallow around it that has Elrond frantically fisting his own erection. When he comes, shuddering and clamping down on his own cock, it is the moment Maedhros cries out his brother's name.

Quite gracefully, Maglor uncurls from the chair and stands the moment Maedhros’s softened cock slips out his mouth, offering a knowing smile to Maedhros.

“You are old,” Maglor remarks. “Better take some rest.”

For once, Maedhros doesn’t complain about his brother’s snide remark but slumps into the chair, breathing hard.

Maglor wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, stepping towards Elrond. “Don’t you want to kiss me, my mouth still tasting of him?”

Elrond doesn’t even have the chance to reply, with Maglor’s lips being upon his own, twisting the angle ever so slightly to give Maedhros a perfect view. Elrond looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Go on,” Maedhros rasps. “I quite like what I see.”

Maglor withdraws from Elrond’s lips. “Do you want me to prepare him for you?”

“Maybe,” Maedhros says, brushing a strand of wayward hair out of his eyes. “But not here.”

“Where else?”

“In a bed?” Maedhros sighs in frustration. “Or has that become too ordinary for you?”

“Oh, not at all.” Maglor laughs, taking Elrond’s hand. “After all, nothing is ordinary about inviting a third party in our bed.”

Maedhros rolls his eyes. “Nothing is ordinary about Elrond you wanted to say, yes.”

“Indeed! I, for one, can’t say I’ve ever fucked a Peredhil before.”

Maedhros’s smile is devious. “A pity that this won’t change tonight.”

Maglor glares.

Elrond snorts, mostly to compensate for his lack of something else to say. Maedhros stands, not even bothering to pick up his discarded clothes, snatching Elrond out of Maglor’s grasp.

“Hey,” Maglor complains, slapping Maedhros’s naked buttocks with a sharp crack.

Within a heartbeat, Maedhros catches Maglor’s arm. “Keep your fingers to yourself,” he rasps, still breathless.

They fly up the stairs, fueled by excitement, heading towards Maglor’s room – by Maglor’s choice. “Less messy,” Maglor explains.

Maedhros snorts but doesn’t say anything else.

Elrond understands the moment Maglor lights the candles. In comparison, his own room is neat and tidy; Maedhros’s room can hardly be worse than this. Piles of books and parchment are scattered everywhere; on the little table by the window, on the floor, even on the bed amidst a sea of clothes. Maglor looks at him, shrugging. He clears the bed by simply pulling at the blanket, sending the items flying to the floor.

The sound of a door being locked diverts Elrond’s attention. It’s Maedhros locking it, and Elrond gives him a stare of surprise. After all, they are alone and Elros isn’t supposed to return any time soon.

“Precautions,” Maglor says with a laugh. “He still has not forgotten that one time Moryo has barged into the room, equipped with maps and scrolls to plan the next battle. Well, I’m quite certain Moryo hasn’t forgotten, either, but for a different reason entirely.”

Maedhros sighs. “That was necessary, yes?”

Maglor’s grin is sordid. “Yes.”

Elrond rolls his eyes. “You are awful.”

Maglor points towards Maedhros. “He’s awful.”

“You are both awful,” Elrond says, then laughs. “And perhaps, that’s why I love you.”

“How romantic,” Maglor coos, a mocking edge to his voice.

“Shut up, or I’ll gag you,” Maedhros says to Maglor, then turns towards Elrond, stripping out of his tunic. “I must apologize for my brother’s impertinence.”

Elrond lifts his hand to Maedhros’s chest. “Instead of apologizing … kiss me instead?”

The sound of Maglor applauding in the back is lost in the fury of Maedhros’s kiss.

Although Maedhros has spent himself moments before, Elrond feels an unmistakable hardness against his thigh, followed by a distinct press of Maedhros’s body as if to make certain that Elrond _knows_. Elrond thrusts his leg ever so slightly against him rubbing his thigh on Maedhros’s cock – or Maedhros rubbing his cock on his thigh, until Maedhros moans against his lips.

“Fuck.” Now it’s Elrond swearing.

Maedhros pulls him close. “I quite like it … when you are like this.”

“Like this?” Elrond raises an eyebrow and presses himself against Maedhros.

“Desperate for my touch,” Maedhros whispers against Elrond's ear, easing buttons from their holes and slipping his fingers in between the cloth.

“Willing.”

Elrond’s tunic sails to the floor.

“Compliant.”

The lacings of his breeches come next.

“ _Filthy_.”

Maedhros’s hands slip below the waistband of Elrond’s trousers, kneading his firm buttocks.

Elrond’s breath hitches, certainly loud enough for Maedhros to hear.

Elrond returns Maedhros' stare, his stomach fluttering with nerves. “You like what you see.” 

“I do,” Maedhros confirms. “Mind to step out of your breeches yourself?”

Elrond shakes his head, clumsily fumbling with them under Maedhros’s burning gaze until he stands in the room naked.

 _Damn_. He’s nervous. Incredibly nervous, suddenly afraid that perhaps Maedhros does not like what he’ll see regardless of what he just said. After all, the genes of his human ancestors show on certain parts, and perhaps, that might be repulsing? Such thoughts have moved him for quite a while, and now the anxious maelstrom thundering inside his head rises to new heights.

For a tremulous moment, there is silence, except for the sound of his beating heart.

The doubts vanish the moment he catches the look on Maedhros’s face. Although Elrond is not yet perfect at reading emotions, for once it’s easy to decipher Maedhros. Desire and longing spread across Maedhros’s face so plainly that even a blind man would see it.

Maedhros steps forward, taking Elrond by the hands. “Yes?” he whispers, inclining his head and to Elrond, it feels as if suddenly Maedhros is equally nervous.

Elrond squeezes Maedhros’ hand. “Yes.”

“Then come.”

Elrond chuckles, unable to resist the pun. “Make me?”

From somewhere behind him, Maglor laughs. Elrond looks over his shoulder, realizing that Maglor has made himself comfortable atop a pile of clothes.

The sudden press of fingers against his cheek, guiding his head back again comes as a surprise. “I demand your attention. Fully, and unconditionally, at least for a while.”

Elrond trembles then nods. “Yes.”

Maglor makes a pouting sound. This time, Elrond ignores him.

“Good,” Maedhros says, walking Elrond backward towards the bed with an urgency that renders Elrond breathless. When Maedhros pushes him gently, he allows himself to fall onto it.

Maedhros settles between Elrond’s legs, taking a moment to drink in the sight.

Elrond parts his lips to say something, surprised when Maedhros places his index finger over his lips. “I want to do this properly,” he says, leaning down until their lips are almost touching. “Like you deserve it, and perhaps have dreamt about it.”

Warmth spreads across Elrond’s skin.

Maedhros kisses Elrond’s forehead, his nose, then the corner of his mouth as if silently asking for the consent Elrond gave long ago. He reaches up with shaking hands, trailing his fingers along Maedhros’s cheeks, tracing the scars war has left behind. Maedhros smiles against his lips, just before kissing him. The kiss is slow, but passionate regardless.

Time loses meaning to Elrond, as Maedhros moves his mouth over Elrond’s jaw towards his neck, up to his ear where he’d always been so very sensitive. Elrond is breathing hard, trying to increase the friction against his cock; he’s rock hard again.

Maedhros sits back on his heels, eyeing Elrond. “By Manwë’s balls, it’s been years,” he gasps, flustered.

“ _Centuries_.” Maglor remarks. “So long I can’t remember the last time when you were so gentle with me.”

Maedhros gives his brother a stare, then a smile. “I’ve had the vague impression you grew tired of that long ago.”

Maglor glares.

Maedhros laughs. “Now, don’t pout. In fact, I think Elrond would be delighted if you continued kissing him whilst I’m busy between his legs.”

Elrond splutters.

He knows how it’s done. Has seen it, has tried it with his own fingers, and dreamt about it too often to count, but now, being suddenly confronted with reality, it feels oddly embarrassing to be touched there.

Maglor doesn’t need to be told twice. He hops from his pile of clothes and settles behind Elrond, cross-legged with Elrond’s head now resting in his lap. From somewhere, Maedhros has retrieved a flask of oil, pouring its content generously into his hand.

Elrond makes a vague awkward noise when Maedhros parts his buttocks and gently probes with his oiled finger. It feels nothing like his own clumsy attempts to press his spit-slick fingers into his hole, whenever he had caught sight of them doing something Elrond wasn’t supposed to see. Sometimes, he had tried his luck with the end of a slim candle, which actually had worked out much better. And yet – nothing has prepared him for the moment when Maedhros’s finger presses against his hole. The steady pressure as it slips past resistance speaks of knowledge; of certainty, and that alone sends a thrill through Elrond’s body.

“Hush,” Maglor whispers against Elrond’s lips when he begins thrashing at the intrusion. “It’ll be okay.”

He believes him, with all his heart, and yet his body continues fighting.

Maedhros adds more oil, and the second finger has Elrond shaking. He’s never come that far alone, and although his body struggles against the intrusion, the appreciative smile Maedhros gives him, makes him relax as does Maglor’s kiss, all teeth, and tongue.

Lube trickles down his inner thigh, and he fists the sheet when Maedhros adds a third finger, realizing that not even three fingers come close to the size of his cock. It’s big, and in fact, scary – _‘it’ll never fit’_ – and at the same time, his fantasy runs riot. What must it be like to be so wrecked?

Maedhros would never hurt him, not purposefully at least.

Yet Elrond knows it can’t be prevented. And so does Maedhros.

“I won’t lie to you, and yet I wish I could promise you that it won’t hurt.”

Elrond lifts one hand to Maedhros’s face. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” he says with a confidence he isn’t quite feeling.

“Tell me. If I should stop. If I should go slower.”

Elrond nods, and then Maedhros’s fingers are gone.

Without them, he feels bare and vulnerable – open. Maedhros gives Maglor a stare across Elrond’s body, a command uttered without saying a single word.

“Yes, yes.” Maglor rolls his eyes. “Have fun,” he says, freeing himself out of Elrond’s arms to return to his pile of clothes. “I certainly will – either way.”

Maedhros covers Elrond’s body with his own, their lips only inches apart. “It’s easier for you if you turn around, at least for the beginning.”

Elrond lifts his fingers to touch Maedhros’s cheek. “No,” he says, lifting his head so that their lips touch. “I want to see your face, your eyes. I _need_ to see it.”

“So be it,” Maedhros says, and Elrond is quite certain it actually translates to, _‘So I have feared.’_

Maedhros splays Elrond’s legs further, positioning himself between them. His heartbeat drumming in his ears and cheeks glowing, the tip of Maedhros’s erection pushes against him, seeking entrance.

Elrond resists the urge to fight. His muscles pull tight, tendons stretching from the effort to keep his composure as Maedhros enters him. Even at that little bit, he already feels too sensitive, too tight to take Maedhros’s cock, struggling against the intrusion. He’s fisting the sheets between his hand and thrashing his head from side to side, trying to breathe in between.

The cadence of Maedhros’s voice stills him. “Look at me.”

Elrond gasps.

“Look at me,” Maedhros repeats, pushing further inside.

Maedhros’s eyes speak of pure desire, and then he kisses him, hard and urgent, and with the same vigor. Elrond kisses back; eyes fixed at Maedhros. It’s better now, now that he is focused on Maedhros’s face. It still burns, and it hurts, and it feels so different than anything he’s done before, and yet it’s what he’s dreamt of for so long.

In his fantasies, everything had always been savage and filthy, urgent. It’s exactly none of it. He’d never been aware of the gentleness that still lives on in Maedhros’s heart; that somehow has survived.

“It’s okay,” Maedhros says in between kisses, brushing a wayward strand out of Elrond’s eyes. “I’m almost in.”

Elrond struggles to steady his breathing, arms now wrapped around Maedhros’ waist, which brings a smile to Maedhros’s lips. “Relax.”

_“Relax.”_

Elrond grits his teeth, relaxing by sheer force of will.

Maedhros gives him all the time in the world to adjust, and indeed, the dull ache becomes a little more bearable in time.

The look on Maedhros’s face only adds to it. To see him like this, pupils dilated, open-mouthed and panting above him is surreal, like an image taken straight out of his jerk-off fantasies. Yet better. So much better.

Parts of him wishes to let his eyes fall shut, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not when Maedhros is looking at him – down at him – in that way, eyes filled with affection and desire; not when Maedhros rocks his hips slowly, almost too slowly against him, still afraid to hurt him.

“Maedhros,” Elrond moans.

“Don’t.” The look Maedhros gives him is heartbreaking. “Call me by my name; by the one that isn’t cursed and stained with blood.”

Elrond swallows at the confession and bitterness in Maedhros’s voice. “I will,” he says, lifting his hands to cup Maedhros’s face. “I promise.”

Then, Elrond lifts his head and kisses Maedhros, with an intensity he hopes to chase away the wretched past – and future, for he knows the oath will never sleep.

Not here; not now; there’s no time for visions of bloodstained hands; of flashing steel in the glittering moonlight, and yet even as he thinks it, he stares at afterimages in his mind. It’s cursed, it’s wretched, and yet it does exactly nothing to quench his arousal – quite the contrary. He’s ashamed by it, thoroughly, and tries to rid himself of the nasty images his mind concocts whilst Maedhros is buried deep inside him.

Maedhros’s lips brush at his collarbone, tongue darting out to lick along it, moving lower towards his nipples.

“Fuck.”

Usually, Elrond isn’t one for swearing.

_“Fuck! By Vána’s tits. Maitimo.”_

“Alas! I’m delighted to see that you’ve finally accepted our way of swearing,” Maglor remarks with a chuckle. 

In the frenzy, he’s actually completely forgotten about Maglor.

He dares a glance.

Maglor’s clothes have long since fallen, one of his robes serving as blanket draped across his shoulders. His legs are parted, hand languidly stroking along his erection.

Faintly, he remembers Maedhros’s words of undiverted attention – and yet he can’t look away from how Maglor fists his cock. It gets right to him, and he wants Maglor to be a part of this.

“Come here,” Elrond demands, surprised by the urgency in his voice.

Maglor stares at him.

Maedhros stares at him.

And then the brothers stare at each other.

“I told you,” Maglor says. Elrond sees triumph flash in Maglor’s eyes the moment he stands up. “He has that streak of natural command.”

Maglor settles behind Elrond just as before.

“Behave yourself,” Maedhros warns.

Maglor blows a kiss into the air. “Always.”

Elrond doesn’t know what Maedhros means, but figures that for once he doesn’t care. Maglor’s hands stroke along his sides, then are gone, replaced by his mouth against his lips.

He writhes, gasping for breath when Maedhros pushes deep inside him, fucking him the way he has imagined in his wildest dreams.

By now, his hair sticks to his forehead, strands falling across his eyes. He doesn’t know if it’s his own hair, or Maglor’s; if it’s Maedhros’s hand gripping hard enough to bruise, or Maglor’s. He doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to care. Everything has become a divine blur of hands and mouths and tongues; of heavy breaths and moaned confessions, his own name spoken in a gasp. Maedhros thrusts harder, picking up the pace, his breathing labored, and yet he’s still in perfect control, the rhythm never faltering, never thrusting too hard.

Maglor reaches between them, stroking Elrond’s cock firmly to the same rhythm of Maedhros’s thrusts, and Elrond chokes out a mouthful of broken words that don’t even make sense to him. His hands fly to Maedhros’s shoulders, nails digging deep into the freckled skin. It only needs a few firm strokes to undo Elrond completely. He arches his body against Maedhros, moaning both their names against Maglor’s lips.

And it is as if the sound of his voice, raw and urgent, is more than enough to have Maedhros reach his climax immediately after. Maedhros’s composure snaps entirely, a guttural moan spilled against Elrond’s shoulder. Maedhros shakes and trembles through his climax and as he does, Elrond lets his fingers run through Maedhros’s curls, whispering sweet nonsense against his ear.

Maedhros’s body is limp and lazy, a dead weight settling across Elrond’s body.

“Now that’s unfair,” Maglor protests, crossing his arms before his chest.

Maedhros lifts his head, raising an eyebrow but remains otherwise entirely unimpressed, his cock softening inside of Elrond’s body. “Feel free to join us. Or continue to pout,” Maedhros says, directing his attention towards Elrond again. “Either way, I don’t care.”

Maglor’s smile is sordid. “Perhaps you’ll care if I tell you that I’ve won my wager?”

Maedhros is fully awake within the blink of an eye. “What wager?” he snarls.

Triumph flashes across Maglor’s face. “Curious now are you?” he asks, way too sweetly.

“What bet?”

“Oh,” Maglor coos, idly playing with Elrond’s hair. “The one I have had with Elrond. That I’ll manage to get you two idiots between the sheets.”

“What?” Maedhros glares daggers at Maglor.

Elrond feels like hiding, the moment Maedhros’s gaze lands on him. “ _What?_ ”

“Never mind,” Maglor says, giving Elrond’s lip a possessive bite. “I’m patient enough to wait until dawn comes to claim what rightfully now is mine.”

*


End file.
